


Light in the Dark

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Batman/Hunger Games Crossover, Everlark Week Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale from a city darker than the Capitol - where the forces of good and evil are at play, and one man finds himself with an alluring adversary from his past...</p><p>Submission for Prompts in Panem, October 2012, Day 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light in the Dark

The symbol lit up the night sky, shifting through the fog that shivered and hovered over the city. He glanced up towards it, reaching into the pocket of his worn jacket for the flask he kept there.

  
It was getting harder and harder to make sure his team never saw him with it.

  
He raised it to his lips without taking his eyes off the sky. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was going to arrive that way. He never did. He normally just snuck up on him like the sneaky bastard that he was.

  
He shoved his other hand into the pocket of his pants. They’d seen better days, the hems fraying at the edges, the buttons replaced by a safety pin. He didn’t care. They hadn’t employed him for his fashion sense, or his sunny disposition. It was a good thing, because he didn’t damn well have either.

  
The picture in his pocket weighed heavily, the reason he had sent out the signal. For once it wasn’t a murderer, wasn’t a violent re-offender, wasn’t a sadistic asshole. No, instead it was a pretty young woman preying on the rich.  
And part of him was terrified that he knew who it was.

  
“Commissioner,” The voice drifted through the night, its deep tones barely audible over the chaotic noises of traffic from the streets below. He turned to see the man standing silently at the corner of the roof, his black cape fluttering in the cool night breeze, his arms folded across his chest.

  
Commissioner Abernathy strolled over to him, casually swigging from the flask as he went. It helped somewhat, calmed his nerves, his concerns.

  
“We’ve got some trouble going down,” he grunted.

  
“That’s nothing different in Gotham, Commissioner.”

  
“No, really? I didn’t notice. Missed that through the shitload of paperwork I have to complete everyday attempting to keep these assholes off the streets,” he retorted sarcastically. The man just stood there, expression unchanged. Like a frigging statue. He sighed. “It’s different this time. It’s…. personal.”

  
“I take it that we’re not here to discuss Snow then?” the man asked, referencing the menace that had been a thorn in their side for as long as they could remember.

  
“No. He’s quiet at the moment. I don’t know whether to be grateful or concerned.”

  
“I’d go with concerned, Commissioner. You know as well as I do that it’s never a good sign when he goes underground.” Abernathy nodded his head in agreement, took a deep breath, and pulled the photo from his pocket. He handed it over reluctantly.

  
“What’s this?”

  
“A shot from CCTV footage, from the home of Mayor Hawthorne. A large sum of money, along with a significant amount of jewellery, was stolen from him. This was the only shot of the intruder he was able to locate from all of his cameras.”

  
“How many does he have on his property?” The man asked, studying the grainy shot of a sleek female form sliding behind a tree.

  
“36.”

  
“36. And he only managed to get this one grainy shot? She’s barely in it.”

  
“What can I say? She must be damn good at her job.” The man studied the Commissioner curiously.

  
“You sound almost….proud.”

  
“What? No. No. Absolutely not.” Shit.

  
“Hmm,” he looked at the image again. “What else can you tell me?”

  
“This is the 10th home she’s hit in the last month. 4 in the last week alone. She’s ramping things up.”

  
“And why is it personal?” The question came abruptly. Abernathy took a surreptitious glance around, although it was pointless. No-one was here but the two of them.

  
“I think I know her. I’m not sure.”

  
“What do you want me to do?”

  
“What you do best. Find out why she’s doing it. Find out if it’s who I think she is. Stop her.” He hoped to whoever you were supposed to hope to that he was doing the right thing, that he was trusting the right man.

  
“Then I will. You’ll hear from me when I have more, Commissioner.” He tipped his head, stepped to the ledge, and took flight. Abernathy watched him soar between two buildings, and out of sight.

  
Damned if the Bat didn’t have style.

  
****

  
The man – or ‘The Bat’, as so many liked to call him – closed the door to his study, tossing the photo on the desk. As usual, the room was spotless. Darius never missed a trick, never allowed dust to collect, would never allow so much as a pencil be out of place.

  
He sank into the deep leather of the chair and studied the photo in front of him. It was the first time the Commissioner had approached him about something so personal. He was a little surprised the Commissioner even had anyone he cared about enough to worry about. For as long as he’d known him, Abernathy had been removed, solitary, disconnected. He was good at his job, but as a person, he wasn’t particularly successful. He’d saved him once though, as a young man, and for that, Peeta Mellark was always in Commissioner Abernathy’s debt.

  
Not that Abernathy knew that. He didn’t know who ‘The Bat’ really was – no one did. People didn’t consider that the richest man in Gotham would also be the man responsible for clearing the streets of the scum who for so long had defined the city’s gritty, under worldly exterior. Didn’t even consider that the city’s most eligible bachelor would prefer the solitude of his home and the cover of night to dating whoever was the most available socialite.

  
Long ago, longer than he cared to remember, he had lost his family, and the terror he continued to associate with that fed his every waking moment. Most days it fuelled him with whatever energy he needed to fulfil his obligations to the city. Others, it led him to wallow in his cave, the fire and anger normally buried deep inside filling and overpowering him until he could no longer function.

  
He booted up his computer, started the searches he normally ran, studied the photo a little more. There was something familiar about the figure, despite the graininess of the shot, the limited visual he’d been supplied with. The figure was slim, encased in a slinky black cat suit, a black mask fitted firmly across her face, hair pulled back in a trailing braid.

  
A braid.

  
It hit him like a lightning bolt, and he pushed away from the desk, searched frantically through the bookshelves for the slim leather bound book. It was on the top shelf, dust-free and in mint condition. He flicked through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He stared at the picture on his desk, then the one in the book.

  
And he knew.

  
****

  
Abernathy pushed the screen door open, the bulging rubbish bag gripped in his right hand. He flung it over the small balcony, where it landed perfectly in the silver trash can, and he grinned to himself. It was pissing down of rain, exactly the way he liked his nights in Gotham. He turned, to see the man perched on the fire stairs, the blue eyes staring at him through the gloom. He rolled his eyes.

  
“Geez, buddy, you can’t ever make a normal entrance?” he grumbled.

  
“You wanted information, Commissioner. I’m here to deliver it,” was the blunt reply. Abernathy’s pulse thrummed nervously. He almost didn’t want to hear it, but deep down he already knew the words that were going to be said. “Her name is Katniss Everdeen.” Shit. “She grew up in Gotham with her parents and sister, Primrose. Her father, a guard, was killed by Snow in the Arkham Asylum breakout when she was 11. She was removed from the care of her mother at 16 and installed in The Arena, the orphanage down on 12th Street, along with her sister. She was turned out at 18, and she disappeared, taking Primrose with her. No-one has heard of, or from, them in the ten years since.” He paused, and looked at Abernathy carefully. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? What’s the connection?”

  
Abernathy walked to the other side of the small porch, rested his elbows on the ledge, hung his hands over so the rain fell softly on them. It was about time he told someone. May as well be now.

  
“I had to deliver the news of Aidan Everdeen’s death to the family the night he died. The wife crumpled right in front of me like a damned rag doll. The girl, she looked like she’d been kicked in the gut. But despite that, she thanked me for telling them, and told her younger sister that she was going to look after her from then on. Jesus, my heart broke for this 11 year old kid who’d just decided she was going to pretty much be the man of the house. I kept an eye on them. It was her tenacity that enabled them to stay out of the system for as long as they did. I don’t know what happened, what caused them to eventually get taken in. When I found out, I went and spoke to ADA Trinket, but there was nothing she could do. The only reason I didn’t push it further was because I knew the Arena had been opened and funded by Thomas and Moira Mellark before their deaths, and it continued to be a well-run home.” He paused, considering his words before what he revealed next. “The girl came to me about two years ago, asked me to keep an eye on her sister, that she had a job lined up that would take her away from home for quite a while. Didn’t argue, didn’t question. Didn’t think I needed to. I just did as she asked. I’ve been watching over Blondie ever since. But I had no idea the girl was back, until this. I hate the fact that she’s caught up in crazy shit like burglary. And I’m the one who has to stop her, of all things. Shit, I hate my job sometimes.”

  
“What are you going to do?” the man asked.

  
“I guess I’ve gotta go see Blondie. Find out what she knows about her sister’s activities after dark. Then, when I find her, I’m gonna have to bring her in. I don’t have much choice, do I?” He turned to face the man, to explain further, but he was already gone. As usual, without a damn sound. He thumped his hand on the wooden railing, then stalked back inside. He needed a frigging drink.

  
****

  
He knocked on the door of the non-descript apartment, wishing he’d brought his flask with him. He felt naked without it, but he’d promised Blondie he wouldn’t drink when he was around her.

  
They’d developed a strange co-dependency on each other the last few years.

  
He knocked again before he heard the soft padding of feet across the floorboards, the jingle of the lock being turned. The door opened slightly, and the bright blue of an eye peeked around the corner. He could see the delight in them the minute he was recognised, and there was part of him that was still dumbfounded that she actually seemed to give two shits about him.

  
She let him in, closing and locking the door before flinging her arms around him.

  
“Haymitch, I haven’t seen you in a month!” she squealed. Geez, a 24 year old woman squealing, he groaned internally, extracting himself from her grip.

  
“Hey, Blondie, how’s it going? You still at school?” She nodded enthusiastically, moving into the small kitchenette and putting water on to boil.

  
“Yeah, still just going to night classes. It’s good. I’m enjoying it. Making up for a lot of time while we were…..well, you know. It’s pretty easy. Hardest thing is remembering that I answer to Barbara Gordon, not Prim,” She turned around to face him, and screwed up her nose at the name; he couldn’t help but snort. Kid had worse things to worry about than a damned alias. He waited until she turned back to face the kitchen bench, then glanced around the apartment while she tinkered with the mugs. Over the last few years, nicer touches had begun to find their way into it, no doubt Blondie’s doing. It was pretty obvious now that it had been funded by Katniss’ foray into the underworld. He took a deep breath.

  
“What’s going on with your sister?” he blurted. He saw Prim’s hands still on the coffee jar, her eyes dart over to him.

  
“Nothing.”

  
“Nothing? Don’t give me that shit, kiddo. I’ve got her on CCTV footage.” She sighed, and pulled her long blonde braid over her shoulder. Her eyes drifted to the ground.

  
“I don’t know how she got into it. She told me she was going away for a while, and then when she came back a few months ago, she had a lot of money in the bank. Said it was for me, so I could go and get the education I needed. She disappears occasionally in the middle of the night. She’s never said anything to me directly, but I figured it out. It wasn’t hard, and I’m not stupid. But she doesn’t say anything , and I’m not going to confront her. You know what she’s like.”

  
“Yeah, I do. At least, I thought I did. Blondie, you gotta talk to her. I don’t want to bring her in, but if she continues, I might have to. Sure, there are worse criminals in Gotham, but you’re easier to take down if you’re alone and not associated with any of the kingpins. Hell, if they think you’re venturing into their territory, they’re likely to dump you in the bottom of the river just to remove the possibility of competition. Do you get me?” She nodded slowly, biting her lip nervously.

  
“She needs to stop.”

  
“She _has_ to stop. I might not be able to help her this time. Just….. Be careful. She’s tried hard to keep you both under the radar and invisible since you left the Arena. If that’s still important to her, then it’s gotta end.”

  
“I’ll try. Please, whatever happens, be good to her Haymitch. Anything she’s done, she’s only done for me.”

  
****

  
While the Commissioner was with Katniss Everdeens’ sister, The Bat was stationed on the corner of a roof. He’d studied her last ten hits, and begun to see a pattern emerge. The pattern told him her final goal was Snow.

  
She’d alternated hitting the residence of a general Gotham citizen with an associate of Snow’s, probably to throw the GCPD off her scent. Finnick Odair – the AD of Gotham, and regularly pitted against himself in the tabloids for the affections of any woman in town – was as far removed from Snow’s association as you could get. Which instinctively told him her next hit would be one of Snow’s right hand men.

  
Crane – the man most people assumed was responsible for breaking Snow out of Arkham - was the logical choice, so he’d stationed himself directly across the street from his palatial home, hidden in the shadows, avoiding the cameras and security.

  
If she was planning on accessing and leaving Crane’s mansion without being detected, he was going to be here to see how she did it.

  
He waited, and waited. The hour grew late, and he was beginning to think he had been wrong when he finally saw her. A faint shadow that slid over the far corner of the wide brick fence, stalking away quietly into the night undetected.  
Not a single alarm went up in the Crane household to indicate they were aware anything untoward had occurred.

  
Damn, she was good at her job, he thought, and the smile slowly crept across his face. He couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again, just like he had as a 17 year old, when he’d first visited The Arena, his parents’ legacy, at Darius’ insistence. He’d spent every weekend for the next year there until she’d abruptly disappeared. Now, it seemed, was the time for some answers.

  
He took flight, soaring from the top of the building, as he began to formulate his plan. Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen were about to play a very interesting game of cat and mouse, and he planned to win.


End file.
